Fort Worth weekly gazette. [volume] (Fort Worth, Tex.) 1882-1891, 1887-11-18

perfumed their dining room with pas
TILES, or incense, burned on broad, nat
dhovi kalsin Of clay, and after gallop In
the cool morning air, clad in white
Jacket, round the Esplanade, he had re-
turned fresh and invigorated to breakfast,
in Indian fashion, on coffee and prepsr-
alton of butter, green chillis, boiled rice,
egg and fish, with cayenne at discretion;
wh lie Montressor, pale, unslept ana 1uti
Of anxious thoughts, contenteo nlmss II
with chestnut and led brandy ana sous,
and sat, almost watch in hand, waiting
for the earliest moment when ne coulo
present himself ct Sir Hobart's house, on
the Chowringher road.
He was q prey to many ANXIOUS
thoughts and fears; but to these ne gave
no uttersnce. even to his old friend, Mon
tsgue Lonsdale, who regarded him with
eyes of sympathy.
In the events connected with his seps-
ration from Claire, her fathers death a.
Chillington, the conviction that she had
| been cruelty trlcked and degraded, might
she not have learned-tutored herself
tC loathe him at the very ides OF his ex-
istence.
And how, if-believing that she was
not his wife-she had yielded up her
heart to the kindness the attentions, the
love and tenderness Of another? Ano
what if there were only truth in all the
gossip he had heard buZzed about her IN
clubhouse and bungalow-the result OF
her beauty, her unprotected and depend
ent position in the household OF Lsdy
TremaVnei So, even now she might turp
from him as one who knew him
not and cared not to know
him; and with this painful idea
there came before him the recollection OF
how she stood when he last saw her, with
hands outstretceed and tremulous as II in
depreciation and fear, and face averted,
it might be, in horror.
But anon he knew that this marriage
was fact indIsputable; and that the other
was falsehood, delusioD, an impossi
bility and snare. At last the time came.
snow to be of to Tremayne's," saio
he, starting up.
Gan right. I'll accom- any you there,
at least" replied Lopsdale. "Qui hi"
"Kva hookem, ih?"-("what are
masters orders?'D his native
valet, with low salssm.
"The korses-quicki"
Fort William, with all It's bomb-proof
barracks, its mighty works guarded bY
mines and counter mines, it's shady groves
and deep ditch, was soon far in the rear,
and sharp gallop brought the friends to
the pillared and chunom-plastered villa on
the ChoWringher road, where Lonsdale
left Montressor to his own devices; sno
much that follows is plain narrative-the
sequel to the story of the latter.
By Sir Hobart, fussy little man, ano
his brother, the general, whom Montres-
scr found there, he was received with
Notifying and frigid GOODNESS, the gen
ersl wearing what Hilda used to term
"his court martial face" But ignoring
all thst, and beseeching their attention,
he related his story as we have told 1t
elsewhere, and laid before them the let
tiers and exculpatory documents OF his
solicitors in Lincoln's Inn Fields, proving
that his marriage with "Irene Beaufort, "
as she calls herself, was a snare, and that
she WAS the run away wife OF that per-
sonage with the grotesque English name.
Mr.. Tudor Chuckerbutty, comedian,
W had asserted his marital rights, IN
receipt of due consideration, to which
mis- signature and those of Montressor's
| solicitors, as witnesses, were appended
| On this the clouds were dispersed, and
the manner of the general, ard OF the
| fussy little governor of Arracon, thawed
st once; and after little delay Lady Ire
msyne entered with her whom MOntres-
sor had begun to think might never cross
his path in this world again.
"Claire, my darling, now you know
alI-ell!" he exclaimed, as tremulous in
voice and limb with Joy, he held her at
arms length, that he might gaze upon
her face, after he had caught her wildly
to his breast, and covered it with pas
sionste kisses-kisses from which she did
not shrink, though there was still timid
sense of half-forgotten fear in her heart
Her quivering lips were still white and
voiceless; she had undergone so much,
She strove to be calm, and in that calm
ness her face had something that was in
dicatlve of power, of great endurance-s
strength of purpose it had never worn be-
fore.
"Iem now repaid, Claire, thousand
fold, FIR all 1 have suffered. And you,
my lover" asked Montressor.
"Hsd no wish till now but to die," she
replied, as her head fell on his breast.
"Oh, let us forget all the misery of the
past. Oh, Clare" he whispered, when
l learned to love you, in all the world
you were the first and only woman for
me-the soul of my soul, if 1 may use
such term"
For how many sleepless nights and
weary, weary days had Digby's voice lin
gered IN her ears, as she had heard 1t
last In that cottage at Lynemouth, when
they parted, pale, hsggsrd and heart
broken! "In world where the real and
the unreal travel side by side, aud the
visible and invisible blend within the
consciousness" says writer, "who
would dare to assert what is possible or
impcssible?"
Thus, strange as 1t may appesr, sudden
and unexpected. M0ntresser and Claire
found themselves face to face and re-
united, in Calcutta, so many thousand
miles from where they had parted last,
in that little lonely cottage in Devonshire.
With the memory of their brief honey
moon, then so terribly broken and cloud
ed, and when they might have hoped to
make up to each other for all the sadness
and misery of their apparently hopeless
separation, 1t was hard indeed to hnd
that the hour was almost at hand when
Digby would have to embark for that
pestilential seat Of war in Burmah.
Without being actually guilty In any
way, he, poor fellow, seemed to feel or be
impressed by keen conviction that he
had much to atone for to Claire, in the
way of love, devotion and tenderness;
and 1t was with natural, but intense re-
luctance and useless loathing of the ser
vice, that he now looked forward to the
VOYAGE across the Bay of Bengal and the